by Robert Burns
20 Henry Dundas (1742–1811), Secretary of State for Scotland.
My Nanie, O
Tune: My Nanie, O
First published, Edinburgh, 1787.
Behind yon hills where Stinchar flows1 those
’Mang moors an’ mosses many, O,
The wintry sun the day has clos’d,
And I’ll awa to Nanie, O.
5 The westlin wind blaws loud an’ shill, shrill
The night’s baith mirk and rainy, O; both, dark
But I’ll get my plaid an’ out I’ll steal, cloth garment
An’ owre the hill to Nanie, O. over
My Nanie’s charming, sweet, an’ young;
10 Nae artfu’ wiles to win ye, O: no
May ill befa’ the flattering tongue befall
That wad beguile my Nanie, O! would
Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she’s bonie, O;
15 The op’ning gowan, wat wi’ dew, flower, wet
Nae purer is than Nanie, O.
A country lad is my degree,
An’ few there be that ken me, O; know
But what care I how few they be,
20 I’m welcome ay to Nanie, O. always
My riches a’s my penny-fee, paltry wages
An’ I maun guide it cannie, O; will, careful
But warl’s gear ne’er troubles me, world’s
My thoughts are a’, my Nanie, O.
25 Our auld Guidman delights to view old, goodman
His sheep an’ kye thrive bonie, O; cattle
But I’m as blythe that hauds his pleugh, holds, plough
An’ has nae care but Nanie, O.
Come weel come woe, I care na by,
30 I’ll tak what Heav’n will send me, O:
Nae ither care in life have I, other
But live, an’ love my Nanie, O.
The date of composition is uncertain, although an early draft is written in the FCB, April 1784. Mrs Begg claimed the poet’s father saw and liked the song. Given that he died in February 1784, that would suggest composition sometime during the early 1780s. The heroine of the song has been invariably named as Agnes Sherriff of Kilmarnock, or Agnes Fleming, daughter of a Tarbolton tenant farmer. Burns saw the song as ‘pastoral simplicity’ with a ‘dash of our native tongue’ (Letter 511). The song was also printed in SC, 1793, then in S.M.M. (1803), no. 580.
1 Burns, at the suggestion of George Thomson, allowed the name of the river to be changed from Stinchar to Lugar.
Green Grow the Rashes, O
Green Grow the Rashes, O
First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1787.
Chorus
Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e’er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O.
5 There’s nought but care on ev’ry han’, nothing, hand
In ev’ry hour that passes, O:
What signifies the life o’ man,
An’ ’twere na for the lasses, O. if it were not
Green grow &c.
The war’ly race may riches chase, worldly
10 An’ riches still may fly them, O;
An’ tho’ at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, O.
Green grow &c.
But gie me a cannie hour at e’en, give, quiet, evening
My arms about my Dearie, O;
15 An’ war’ly cares, an’ war’ly men, worldly
May a’ gae tapsalteerie, O! topsy-turvy
Green grow &c.
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this, so prudent
Ye’re nought but senseless asses, O: nothing
The wisest Man the warl’ e’er saw, world
20 He dearly lov’d the lasses, O.
Green grow &c.
Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her prentice han’ she try’d on man, hand
An’ then she made the lasses, O.
This song also featured in S.M.M. in 1787, number 77. It was composed, bar the final verse, in 1784 and is recorded in the FCB, dated August, where the song follows a lengthy prose commentary on ‘the two Grand Classes’ of men, the ‘Grave and the Merry’. The song is a fine example of the poet’s early skill, developed by his tutor Murdoch, in writing out lines of poetry from his own prose. Having written out his observations on the two main classifications of men, the poet introduces the song: ‘I shall set down the following fragment which, as it is the genuine language of my heart, will enable any body to determine which of the Classes I belong to’. A further verse, developing this theme, but replacing the power of Nature with God, is recorded by Low (p. 106) from the MSS, Lady Stair’s House, Edinburgh):
Frae Man’s ain side God made his wark
That a’ the lave surpasses O
The Man but lo’es his ain heart’s bluid
Wha dearly lo’es the lasses O.
Again Rejoicing Nature Sees
Tune: Johnny’s Grey Breeks
First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1787.
Again rejoicing Nature sees
Her robe assume its vernal hues,
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze
All freshly steep’d in morning dews.
Chorus1
5 And maun I still on Menie2 doat, must, dote
And bear the scorn that’s in her e’e! eye
For it’s jet, jet-black, an’ it’s like a hawk,
An’ it winna let a body be! will not
In vain to me the cowslips blaw, blow
10 In vain to me the vi’lets spring; violets
In vain to me in glen or shaw, wood
The mavis and the lintwhite sing.
And maun I still &c.
The merry Ploughboy cheers his team,
Wi’ joy the tentie Seedsman stalks, careful
15 But life to me ’s a weary dream,
A dream of ane that never wauks. one, wakes
And maun I still &c.
The wanton coot the water skims,
Amang the reeds the ducklings cry, among
The stately swan majestic swims,
20 And ev’ry thing is blest but I.
And maun I still &c.
The Sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap, shuts, sheep-fold gate
And owre the moorlands whistles shill, shrill
Wi’ wild, unequal, wand’ring step
I meet him on the dewy hill.
And maun I still &c.
25 And when the lark, ‘tween light and dark,
Blythe waukens by the daisy’s side, wakens
And mounts and sings on flittering wings,
A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide. ghost, homeward
And maun I still &c.
Come Winter, with thine angry howl,
30 And raging bend the naked tree;
Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
When Nature all is sad like me!
And maun I still &c.
The title of this is merely ‘Song’ in Kinsley (no. 138). In the Mackay edition it is given as And Maun I Still on Menie Doat, being the first line of the chorus (p. 266). The chorus, though, was written by a friend of the poet’s, as admitted by Burns in his notes when published in 1787; the first line written by Burns is given here as the title, ‘Again rejoicing Nature sees’. In verse five, Mackay has changed the original ‘shill’ to ‘shrill’, changing the older word for its modern meaning, a word Burns did not employ. He further omits the poet’s note indicating he did not write the chorus.
1 This chorus is part of a song composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a particular friend of the Author’s. R.B.
2 Menie is the common abbreviation of Marianne. R.B.
The Gloomy Night is Gathering Fast
Tune: Roslin Castle
First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1787.
The gloomy nigh
t is gath’ring fast,
Loud roars the wild inconstant blast,
Yon murky cloud is filled with rain,
I see it driving o’er the plain;
5 The Hunter now has left the moor,
The scatt’red coveys meet secure,
While here I wander, prest with care,
Along the lonely banks of Ayr.
The Autumn mourns her rip’ning corn
10 By early Winter’s ravage torn;
Across her placid, azure sky,
She sees the scowling tempest fly:
Chill runs my blood to hear it rave,
I think upon the stormy wave,
15 Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonie banks of Ayr. bonny
’Tis not the surging billows’ roar,
’Tis not that fatal, deadly shore;
Tho’ Death in ev’ry shape appear,
20 The Wretched have no more to fear:
But round my heart the ties are bound,
That heart transpierc’d with many a wound;
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear,
To leave the bonie banks of Ayr.
25 Farewell, old Coila’s hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales;
The scenes where wretched Fancy roves,
Pursuing past unhappy loves!
Farewell my friends! farewell my foes!
30 My peace with these, my love with those —
The bursting tears my heart declare,
Farewell, my bonie banks of Ayr.
This was composed in the late Autumn of 1786 when the problems of the poet’s personal life still prompted him to think of emigrating from Scotland. To Dr Moore Burns explained that this was to be his final parting song to his friends and homeland (Letter 125). Personal vexations are evident in the final couplets, referring to a last farewell of ‘friends!’ and ‘foes!’ It is clearly the case that in the poet’s thoughts of sailing to Jamaica he held concerns that a winter journey by sea could be perilous on ‘the stormy wave, /Where many a danger I must dare’.
No Churchman am I
Tune: Prepare, my dear Brethren
The final song of the Edinburgh edition, 1787.
No Churchman am I for to rail and to write,
No Statesman nor Soldier to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business contriving a snare,
For a big-belly’d bottle’s the whole of my care.
5 The Peer I don’t envy, I give him his bow;
I scorn not the Peasant, tho’ ever so low;
But a club of good fellows, like those that are here,
And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.
Here passes the Squire on his brother — his horse;
10 There Centum per Centum, the Cit with his purse, citizen
But see you the Crown, how it waves in the air, coins
There a big-belly’d bottle still eases my care.
The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;
For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
15 I found that old Solomon proved it fair,
That a big-belly’d bottle’s a cure for all care.
I once was persuaded a venture to make;
A letter inform’d me that all was to wreck;
But the pursy old landlord just waddled up stairs, focused on money
20 With a glorious bottle that ended my cares.
‘Life’s cares they are comforts’1— a maxim laid down
By the Bard, what d’ye call him, that wore the black gown;
And faith I agree with th’ old prig to a hair;
For a big-belly’d bottle’s a heav’n of care.
A STANZA ADDED IN A MASON LODGE
Then fill up a bumper and make it o’erflow,
And honours Masonic prepare for to throw:
May ev’ry true Brother of the Compass and Square Masonic instruments
Have a big-belly’d bottle, when harass’d with care!
The poet was entered an apprentice member of the Freemasons’ Lodge at Tarbolton in 1781 and composed this song, fully aware that the tune formed part of Masonic culture, entitled The Freemasons’ March (Aird’s collection of Airs, 1782). An earlier version of the tune, 1730, was known as Freemasons’ Health (Low, p. 84). Composition is assumed to be sometime in the winter of 1783–4, although earlier editors place it in the 1781–2 period. Kinsley records that a political stanza was suppressed in 1787 which alluded to William Pitt and the governmental inquiry into Warren Hastings, which would make the later date accurate. A song with the line ‘And a big-bellied bottle’s a mighty good thing’ was published in 1751, then again in a collection owned by Burns in 1783, A Select Collection of English Songs. The song was also printed in S.M.M. no. 587, 1803. The quotation from Edward Young’s Night Thoughts, ‘Life’s cares they are comforts’ is taken from Part II, l. 160.
1 Young’s Night Thoughts. R.B.
PART THREE
The Edinburgh Edition
1793
Written in Friar’s Carse Hermitage,
First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1793.
On the Banks of Nith – Dec 1788.
Thou whom chance may hither lead,
Be thou clad in russet weed,
Be thou deckt in silken stole,
Grave these counsels on thy soul.
5 Life is but a day at most,
Sprung from night, in darkness lost:
Hope not sunshine ev’ry hour,
Fear not clouds will always lour.
As Youth and Love with sprightly dance
10 Beneath thy morning star advance,
Pleasure with her siren air
May delude the thoughtless pair;
Let Prudence bless Enjoyment’s cup,
Then raptur’d sip and sip it up. –
15 As thy day grows warm and high,
Life’s meridian flaming nigh,
Dost thou spurn the humble vale?
Life’s proud summits would’st thou scale?
Check thy climbing step, elate,
20 Evils lurk in felon-wait:
Dangers, eagle-pinioned, bold,
Soar around each cliffy hold;
While cheerful Peace, with linnet song,
Chants the lowly dells among.
25 As the shades of ev’ning close,
Beck’ning thee to long repose;
As life itself becomes disease,
Seek the chimney-nook of Ease.
There ruminate with sober thought;
30 On all thou’st seen, and heard, and wrought;
And teach the sportive Younkers round,
Saws of experience, sage and sound:
Say, man’s true, genuine estimate,
The grand criterion of his fate,
35 Is not, Art thou high or low?
Did thy fortune ebb or flow?
Did many talents gild thy span?
Or frugal Nature grudge thee one?
Tell them, and press it on their mind,
40 As thou thyself must shortly find,
The smile or frown of awful Heav’n,
To Virtue or to Vice is giv’n.
Say, to be just, and kind, and wise,
There solid self-enjoyment lies;
45 That foolish, selfish, faithless ways,
Lead to be wretched, vile, and base.
Thus, resign’d and quiet, creep
To the bed of lasting sleep;
Sleep, whence thou shall ne’er awake,
50 Night, where dawn shall never break,
Till Future Life, future no more,
To light and joy the good restore,
To light and joy unknown before.
Stranger, go! Heav’n be thy guide!
55 Quod the Beadsman of Nith-side.
This is generally described as the first poetical production to flourish from the friendship of Burns and his nearest neighbour at Ellisland, Captain Robert Riddell (1755�
�94). Riddell owned the Friar’s Carse estate and was well known as an antiquarian, musician and outspoken Whig. Riddell contributed several radical polemical essays to various newspapers of the period, one being the essay signed Cato sent by Burns to The Edinburgh Gazetteer in December 1792 (Letter 530). Riddell built the small hermitage, situated almost one mile from Ellisland, on the banks of the river Nith and provided the poet with a key, allowing him to use it whenever he desired. The hermitage is still extant, although it was re-built in the twentieth century. Scott Douglas records that he visited the site and found it in ruins in the latter part of the 19th century.
Kinsley gives two versions of this poem. He presents the first early draft as the main poem, then prints the final polished version as a secondary work, titled ‘Altered from the Foregoing – Dec – 1788’, no. K223B. Although there are significant differences between the two versions, Burns only printed the final edition in 1793. He did not publish the early draft. It appeared as a separate poem in 1801 with Dr Currie’s second edition of the poems of Burns. The version given here is the final draft, updated by Burns in December 1788 and published in 1793.
The earliest version found its way into print via an unauthorised source. Burns remarked to David Blair (a Birmingham Gunmaker) in August 1789, ‘I know nothing how the Publishers could get it, but as I had given several copies to my friends, it has found its way, I suppose, thro’ the well-meant, though blameable officiousness of some of them. – I have a little altered, and, I think, improved that poem …’ (Letter 360). Kinsley mentions another unsanctioned publication in the Glasgow Weekly Miscellany, for 31st November 1791, which may have been forwarded by Robert Riddell. The final version is, as Burns comments, the superior work.